


While You're Busy Making Other Plans

by marsmaywander



Category: The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Mechanics, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Banter, Gunshot Wounds, Hurt Bucky Barnes, Hurt Tony, M/M, Mechanic Tony Stark, POV Bucky Barnes, Protective Bucky Barnes, Robbery, Sniper Bucky Barnes, Tony Stark Has A Heart, Winteriron Holiday Exchange
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-06
Updated: 2019-01-06
Packaged: 2019-10-01 16:50:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,439
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17247860
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/marsmaywander/pseuds/marsmaywander
Summary: Bucky was cold, tired, and his bum shoulder was killing him. Being stuck in the middle of Nowhere, North Carolina with a busted bike was not how he envisioned spending the last few weeks of his leave. Thankfully, there's a sleep-deprived, big-hearted mechanic there to help Bucky out.(for the winteriron holiday exchange)





	While You're Busy Making Other Plans

**Author's Note:**

  * For [TheSopherfly](https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheSopherfly/gifts).



> Rating is for language and a brief scene of violence. Big thank you to orbingarrow for cheerreading and being a second pair of eyes!

“Damn.”

Bucky had been sure his bike was going to last at _least_ the two weeks he had left, but apparently the good ol’ Barnes luck had struck again. He cut the engine to stop the flow of thick bluish-white smoke. A refreshingly chilly breeze ruffled Bucky's hair as he popped off his helmet. At least this happened during a cold snap, and he wasn’t stuck rolling nearly half a ton of metal through the North Carolina summer heat. The leaves on the nearby trees were just starting to turn. He slowly started to push the bike the few miles back into the town he had just passed. Hopefully there’d be some sort of mechanic there, or a phone he could use to call one.

\- - -

“Excuse me? Is anyone in?” Bucky called into the open garage door of “Tony’s Workshop”. The stark fluorescent lighting shown out into the night, made brighter by the absolute dark surrounding the building. Night had fallen early, making Bucky’s final hour of trudging along the pitch-black roadside peaceful but unnerving.

“Just a sec!” A voice came from across the room.

Bucky propped his bike to the side, set down his threadbare rucksack, and wandered in. A head popped up from behind the hood of a red hot rod, a shock of dark hair in electrified spikes and face liberally covered in absentminded grease streaks.

“Oh! Hi! I’m Tony,” the man blinked, and added another smudge to his cheek. “And you’re a real person here, aren’t you.”

“Um, yes?” Bucky tried. He was more than a little worried about leaving his bike here.

“Oh, you brought me a present? You shouldn’t have.” As he walked over, Tony wiped his hands on the equally-greasy rag tucked into his pocket, and hovered them over Bucky’s bike. Bucky noticed a slight tremor in the fingers.

Tony finally looked up at Bucky, his big brown doe eyes shining with excitement. “What seems to be the problem? No, wait, don’t tell me — I like a surprise.”

“Well, that’s good, because I have no idea why she stopped.” Bucky let out a sigh, and shrugged, “I just gave her a tune-up before I left, and everything seemed okay then.”

“Awesome! Mystery failures are the best. I’ll get right on this.”

Bucky frowned as Tony started to list to the side while talking. Was the guy drunk? He had to lunge to grab Tony when he looked in danger of face-planting right in front of him. At the sharp motion, razor blades scraped along Bucky’s shoulder joint, but he just blew a sharp breath out of his nose and ignored them.

“I don’t mean to offend, but should you be around heavy machinery in this state?”

“Pshhh. Don’t worry. ‘M not drunk — I don’t touch the stuff anymore. I just may be a _tiiiny_ bit sleep deprived.” He paused, eyes narrowing in thought. “Is it still Tuesday?”

“Ok, that’s it. Executive decision from a random stranger. You need to get home to sleep. My bike can definitely wait until tomorrow.”

“No way! I’m fi—” Tony stumbled on flat ground and fell into Bucky’s arms. “Okay, I concede to your wisdom, random stranger.”

“Bucky.” He set Tony upright and offered his hand to shake. Tony’s grip was firm and warm.

“Anyway,” Bucky continued, “any chance there’s a motel within walking distance?” Bucky would rather not spend money on a cab unless it was unavoidable — the bike repair bill was already gonna wipe out his meager savings (and like hell he’d let Stevie find out that he’s under financial strain from helping with Steve’s mom’s medical bills). His musings and mental budgeting were cut short by a burst of laughter.

“Ha ha! But, no,” Tony wiped a tear from his eye (leaving another raccoon-smudge under it). “Only thing around this two-stoplight-town is Bambi’s B&B, which is about 20 miles back that way, and there's no way she's opening her doors this time of night. And before you ask, no taxis around. You might be able to order a pizza and get them to give you a ride back into town, but that trick is a bit difficult for out-of-towners to pull off. ‘Course,” Tony gave Bucky a slow once over, “ _you_ could probably charm them into it.”

Bucky did _not_ blush at the attention — his cheeks were just warming up after being in the chilly wind for so long. 

“Tell you what, Brooklyn — you and your lovely accent can stay in the loft for tonight.” Tony pointed to the overhang where Bucky could just make out a some boxy furniture shapes in the shadows. 

“I couldn't possibly—”

“I insist; call it _Southern hospitality_ , if you want. Don't worry, this place locks up nice and secure... not that there's anyone for miles around _to_ break in and wow that sounded so much more creepy than I intended it to I swear I'm not a psycho murderer waiting to trap unsuspecting hot stranded travelers.”

Bucky just laughed.

“...You look like you could bench press me anyway. I’m just gonna stop talking now. Um. Bed should already have fresh linens on it; feel free to grab a snack or water bottle from the ‘shop mini fridge over there. I live in the adjoining rooms through these doors here, so just give a shout if anything comes up.”

Bucky was asleep before his head hit the pillow.

\- - -

Throbbing from Bucky’s shoulder woke him up as the first rays of dawn broke through the high windows. He probably overdid it yesterday with the miles of pushing the bike. The workshop was silent, so hopefully Tony was still sleeping. After stretching and making the bed, he carefully climbed back down the ladder. 

Grabbing water and a small breakfast snack didn’t take up much time, so Bucky was soon left exceptionally bored with nothing to do. Bucky tried to avoid quiet moments of introspection, so he started wandering around looking for something to keep him occupied.

By the time Tony walked into the workshop, yawning and stretching, Bucky was sat in the middle of a stretch of concrete with hundreds of small metal bits spread out in front of him.

“Um, I can explain?”

Tony waved away the awkward on his way to the coffee machine, “Idle hands, I get it. Knock yourself out.” He lifted the half-full pot, “Want some?”

“Oh, uh, no thanks. I can’t do caffeine,” Bucky said, mesmerized and horrified as Tony shrugged and downed the steaming coffee directly from the carafe.

Bucky was just about through sorting the mess of nuts and bolts he had found in a shoebox when Tony called out from across the room.

“A bit of bad news. Your bike is shot, and it’s gonna take a while to fix. The crankcase wasn’t closed; the seals must have dried out. The dust on the roads out here probably didn’t help matters. The leak let oil from the transmission into the engine, which is what was making it smoke like crazy.” Tony walked over to him, twirling a wrench through his fingers. “I’m gonna have to take the whole engine apart to fix it, which is gonna take a while. I also can’t make any guarantees on a finish time — I’ll need to see what parts need replacing and what I have to order in special.”

“Damn,” Bucky breathed. He didn’t know how we was going to cover this. Pay from the army didn’t stretch as far as he would have liked; his only hope at this point was that the bill would only take out his savings. He didn’t have any possessions he could sell to make up the difference, or many friends he could borrow from. Steve would loan him the money in a heartbeat if he could, but he was just as broke as Bucky was. Bucky wouldn’t put that burden on his shoulders. 

Tony gave Bucky a measuring look. “How are you with numbers?”

Bucky had to do trigonometry calculations on the fly to line up his sniper shots. “Pretty good… why?”

“Well, I’m no slouch with math, but i _hate_ bookkeeping. What I propose is that you help me out with a bit of backlogged bookkeeping and some random tasks around the ‘shop, and we’ll consider your repair, food, and board taken care of.” He extended a hand out to Bucky. “Deal?”

Bucky almost fell over in relief. He had no idea why this crazy mechanic would offer such a thing, but beggars definitely couldn’t be choosers. “Deal.”

\- - -

Bucky was almost starting to regret agreeing to look through Tony's books. It was a nightmarish pile of hand-scrawled receipts, invoices in shorthand, and half-finished budgetary calculations. The math didn't seem to add up, either. There were some papers written in a neater hand — someone else’s brave attempts to organize the mess — but they were just as incomprehensible. What was this “BHD” line item? It kept showing up, but for different amounts every time, seemingly just there to make the numbers work out.

Tony’s voice interrupted his calculations. “Hey, Brooklyn? Mind taking a break to grab me a soda? I’d go myself, but…”

Bucky looked up to see Tony offering his grease-covered hands in explanation.

“Grab it from my kitchen — through there and first room on the left. Feel free to grab yourself something while you’re there. Mi casa es su casa and all that. We’ll figure out lunch later.”

The residential portion of the workshop was understated and looked like it was added as an afterthought, compared to the chaos and wild energy of the garage. There weren’t many personal touches at all. Bucky went to the stainless steel fridge and pulled out a soda, and spotted a carton of fruit juice that looked really tempting. Hunting through the cabinets to find a glass, Bucky was nearly buried in an avalanche of take-out menus for the local pizza place. He set down the glass and fingered a flyer thoughtfully, before going back to the fridge.

\- - -

“Hey, d’you get lost in here? Didn’t think there were many places to go in this…” Tony trailed off at the sight in his kitchen.

A cloud of steam surrounded Bucky as he stood at the stove, spatula stirring vigorously as he finished up.

“Sorry for the delay — your soda’s on the table there — I wanted to say thank you for letting me crash here, and figured you could do with a home-cooked meal. This pan still looks brand new, by the way.”

He grabbed some plates and hefted the food over to the table, wobbling slightly as his shoulder vehemently protested the weight. He rubbed his shoulder after he set down the pan on a folded towel. “I hope you like fried rice… it’s all I could manage.”

Tony clutched at the door frame. “How’d you even _make_ this? I had vegetables?”

“Oh, um. You had some leftover takeout rice and soy sauce packets, and some only-slightly-frostbitten veggie mix in the freezer,” Bucky looked down as he started dividing the rice among the two plates. “I have experience in making a pantry stretch.”

Tony fell heavily into his seat, staring down at the food. “You didn’t have to go to the trouble, Brooklyn. But... thanks.”

Bucky smiled to himself as he started to eat.

\- - -

After lunch, Tony shooed Bucky out of the kitchen. “You already cooked, _and_ you’re my guest… sort of. No way you’re cleaning, too!”

As Bucky walked back to the garage, he faintly heard Tony's parting comment.

“Oh, and you're coming with me into town tomorrow so we can go grocery shopping. I'm totally going to exploit your culinary talents while you’re here!”

Bucky just chucked to himself.

Tony was on the phone when he re-entered the garage, as Bucky worked on some routine tire rotations. Bucky enjoyed the honest work, hefting tires as a sweat broke out on his brow.

“Yes, Mrs. Parker,” Tony started. “Your car should be ready for pickup by—”

There was a clatter as the phone dropped to the floor.

Bucky swiveled, muscles flexing as he carried a tire one-handed with his good arm, to see what was wrong.

“Everything okay?”

“Fine! Just fine!” Tony squeaked, eyes wide and a light flush covering his face. He scrambled on the floor to recover the dropped handset, and didn’t look up to face Bucky for the rest of the call.

A few hours later, Bucky had finished with the tires and had moved on to organizing spark plugs. Tony called out to ask him to help hold a suspended engine block steady as he changed out some parts. Bucky made sure that his right arm held most of the weight, using his left to stabilize.

“So, what’s up with that arm?” Tony asked frankly, without taking his eyes off the engine. “You okay to be doing all this heavy lifting? I really don’t mind just having you work the books instead. I’m not a merciless taskmaster.”

Bucky’s grip fumbled a bit. No one ever just _asked_. Not with the visible scarring running from his neck down to his wrist. He took a rough breath. “It, uh… it was an escort mission gone bad.” He repositioned his grip on the engine block. Tony pointedly did not look up from his work, staying quiet.

“We never even saw the IED. The _noise_ was... ” Bucky blinked, and took a moment to just breathe. “Anyway, got a bit of shrapnel stuck in there for my troubles. Doesn’t affect range of motion or anything, but it does hurt like hell sometimes.” 

“Well, that… sucks. Hey,” Tony waited for Bucky to look up before continuing, locking eyes with him, “Don’t try to be a macho man here, Brooklyn. You need a break, you take a break.”

\- - -

Bucky had finished with the spark plugs later that afternoon. They had been in _some_ kind of order before, but not an organizing system known to any other person on the planet. He looked up at hearing the characteristic metallic echoing noise of a hubcap being dropped. Before his eyes, Bucky watched Tony bend over to pick it up.

And _wow_ that butt.

In his distraction, Bucky ran headfirst into a towering wall of tires. The wall swayed alarmingly, and Bucky dropped the tray of plugs as he shouted out a cry of alarm.

Tony rushed over, still clutching the hubcap. The tower finished swaying, and settled back into place.

“Are you okay?”

“I thought I was a goner! That thing’s gonna hurt someone if it goes down. Should we move it?”

“Oh, that?” Tony gave the wall a heavy smack with his palm, sending it wiggling. He calmed down after seeing that Bucky was unharmed. “Don’t worry; if it hasn’t fallen in all this time, it’s not gonna fall.”

Tony laughed at Bucky’s visible distrust.

“No, just kidding. I’m a structural engineer, first and foremost. That wall is actually really stable; it’s not going anywhere.” He stared at the pile a moment, “I mean, you could give it a sharp rap right here,” Tony pointed to a location four tires up from the bottom, “and it _might_ go down, but that’s not a very accessible point.”

Bucky sighed, “I feel like I should make an argument for Murphy’s Law — one day that pile is gonna end up hurting someone. But, it’s your garage, so I’m not gonna push it.”

\- - -

The next day, Bucky was battling with his shoulder and the invoice math when someone new walked into the garage. The boy was full of energy, bouncing on the balls of his feet.

“Hi, Mr. Stark! Oh, you’re not Mr. Stark!”

“He’s just around the corner grabbing a coffee, kid,” Bucky replied. “Hey, Tony!” he called out.

What now? Bucky wasn’t good at small talk. He stared awkwardly at his pages of invoices and shuffled through them without seeing anything. Thankfully, Tony arrived and saved him before he had to make any attempts at conversation.

“If it isn’t Spiderboy! Fall out of any trees lately?” Tony joked with a wry grin. Bucky noticed laugh lines around his eyes that lit up his face.

“ _Mr. Stark_ , that happened forever ago! It wasn’t even my fault and you _know_ it,” the boy protested.

“I know, Spidey. Here to pick up your aunt’s car?”

“Yes. Oh! And this is for you,” he produced a plastic-wrapped lump from his backpack, and handed it to Tony.

“Walnut date loaf?” Tony asked.

“Walnut date loaf.”

“She’s all yours, then,” Tony grabbed some car keys from a drawer on his desk and tossed them to the kid. “The car’s right out front; I finished this morning. Tell her to bring it back six months from now for the next maintenance check. You need help getting your bike in the trunk?”

“No, thanks, Mr. Stark. I got it!”

Bucky was unconvinced. The kid tripped over his own feet and nearly dropped his bike and the keys on his way out the door.

“Is he gonna be okay driving home? And did you just get paid in bread?”

Tony laughed, “Peter’s a surprisingly good defensive driver, and has his licence as of last year, even though he looks all of fourteen. And the bread is totally worth it.” Tony winked at him, and Bucky felt a fluttery warmth deep in his core. “I’d share some with you later, but Aunt May’s cooking is a bit of an acquired taste.”

The loaf made a heavy _thud_ as it was set on the desk.

\- - -

Later that evening, the garage received another visitor. 

Bucky was supposed to be filing away the last of the invoices, but in reality was entirely distracted by his view of Tony. Tony, who had stripped down to a tank top as he fought a particularly stubborn engine bolt. Tony, who had apparently been hiding killer arms under his shirts before now — his biceps bulging as Bucky gawked at them.

His appreciation was interrupted by a quiet whirring noise. Tony looked up sharply, and spotted the visitor — a kind but stoic-looking black man in an electric wheelchair. An enormous grin broke out across his face.

“Rhodey!”

Almost faster than thought, Tony was across the room and bear-hugging the visitor. Bucky’s heart felt strangely deflated.

“Honeybunch, when’d you get here?” Tony asked.

“I’m just here for a quick visit, unfortunately. Had an event that brought me to Raleigh, but I’m flying back out in the morning.”

“Oh, boo. You still have a job opening here whenever you wanna give up touring. Oh! And this is Bucky! He’s helping me out here while his bike gets fixed.”

Rhodey didn’t seem the least bit surprised to hear about his friend taking on an unofficial “employee.”

“I gotta go get the big wrench for this stupid bolt. I think I left it in my living room. Be right back. You two should talk. You’ll get along great — you both enjoy dressing up and saluting people.”

With that Tony was off, leaving a flustered Bucky and an unfazed Rhodey.

“Army?”

“Yeah. I’m on leave for,” Bucky thought for a bit, “another week or so.”

Rhodey nodded. “Air force, myself. Not active service anymore, but I remember the grind. Sucks that you’re stuck here for part of your time off.”

“Oh, it’s not so bad.”

“What’s he got you doing, anyway?” Rhodey glanced around, spotting the half-finished filing. “Oh, man — he rope you into doing paperwork? I swear that that man’s allergic. Better you than me, though. I feel like I spend half the time I’m here visiting trying to get his numbers in line.”

“Oh! Maybe you can answer this for me, then. I assume this is your handwriting? Tony’s is nearly chicken scratch.” Bucky grabs an invoice that contains the mysterious “BHD” line item. “This one item costs a different amount every time, and it just seems to be there to make the math play out. I’d almost suspect money laundering, except the numbers aren’t set up right for that… and also I’ve _met_ Tony.”

Rhodey let out a huff of laughter. “Boy’s too nice for his own good.”

“Yeah, I noticed him earlier, doing maintenance in exchange for baked goods.”

“It wasn’t a walnut loaf, was it?” Rhodey asked sharply, eyes wide. “ _Don’t_ eat any. I have no idea how Tony can stomach the stuff. The woman can’t cook. I think he’s just being polite.”

Bucky gave a small smile. “Sounds like him.”

“That’s what BHD is for, actually. It’s Tony’s Bleeding Heart Discount — my words, not his. I had to come up with something to use when bookkeeping.”

Rhodey gave a big sigh, and shifted in his chair. “I won’t go into details, but Tony’s really not that money-focused. Had a bad split with family over it. So as often as possible he helps out where he can in honor of his mom. She was really big on charity work, and giving back. He either heavily discounts their bills or makes up a phoney promotion that gets them the repair work for free.”

“And yet here I stand, buried in paperwork and oil changes in exchange for my repairs,” Bucky says wryly, but in good humor.

Rhodey gave Bucky a long look. “Would you have accepted pure charity?”

Bucky stayed silent.

“What can I say?” Rhodey shrugged with a small smile. “The guy has a knack for knowing what people need and how he can help them get it.”

\- - -

Rhodey stayed for dinner that night before he had to head back for his hotel in Raleigh. Only his seven a.m. flight kept him from giving in to Tony’s pleas to just camp out overnight. (“Tones, it’d be _physically impossible_ for me to get across the state in the morning if I spend the night. We’d have to wake up at four, and I know you. Don’t worry, I’ll be back in town before you know it.”)

The garage seemed too quiet after Rhodey left.

“You guys seem really close,” Bucky offered.

“Yeah, I’ve known him for forever, and he was there for me a while back when I had some heavy family issues. He’s like the best brother a guy could have.”

Bucky wasn’t sure why hearing that was such a relief (okay, he _knew_ why; he just didn’t want to acknowledge it).

Bucky cleared his throat. “And an accounting mastermind, from what I can tell. I can finally finish budgeting on these invoices now.”

“Oh, um. Rhodey told you about the BHD?” Tony’s brow furrowed, but he met Bucky’s eyes without flinching. “Are you upset?”

Bucky considered it for a moment. “I could be. I mean, I _could_ pay for all these repairs, and board and everything, but it honestly would put me in a pretty bad financial position.” He looked up at Tony. “I figure everyone needs a bit of help sometimes. Instead of being upset, I’ll just say thank you. Sincerely, _thank you_. And I’ll be on the lookout for times in the future when I’ll be able to pay the kindness forward.”

Tony’s eyes looked suspiciously wet as he turned away from Bucky. “You’re very welcome,” his voice was rough, and he cleared his throat. “And that sounds like a great mindset to have.”

\- - -

Bucky woke up the next morning to white-hot knives stabbing his shoulder. The pain did not respond at all to his stretching routine, and made him crabby for the rest of the day. He tried to quietly push through the pain (it certainly wasn’t going to be getting any _worse_ ), but he was eventually spotted by an observant Tony.

Tony waited until the afternoon to say something, after witnessing Bucky rub and stretch his shoulder for the third time in an hour.

“Hey, Brooklyn, you wanna take a break from that? Maybe get a snack and then help me with some of these phone calls?”

“I can _do_ this!”

“I never said you couldn’t,” Tony replied patiently. “I just don’t like seeing you in pain for no reason. Those repairs can wait.”

“Worried I’m gonna mess up one of the engines? I already told you — the pain doesn’t affect my motor skills.” Bucky grabbed a nearby hex wrench with his bad arm, lined up his shot, and threw it across the room to neatly slide into one of the holes of an organizing pegboard.

Tony’s eyes went wide, and he stayed silent.

Bucky huffed in annoyance. “Fine. I’m taking a break.” In a quieter voice, he added, “Your dinner’s in the fridge, by the way. Eat without me; I’m not hungry.”

“Bucky...” Tony trailed off as the other man stalked away.

\- - -

Bucky ended up climbing into one of the lifted cars waiting for repairs. The setting was familiar and comforting, after all the time he spent concealed in sniper-hides high off the ground. The seat cushions were more than comfortable when compared to tree branches and rocks.

As frustrating as it was, Bucky had to admit that Tony was right. Now that he was allowing himself rest, the shoulder was starting to settle down. The pain combined with his growing feelings had made him a grumpy jerk.

“How _attractive_ ,” he breathed to himself. Not that there was any chance of anything more than friendship developing, anyway. Who would want to enter into a relationship with an enlisted soldier — and an injured one, at that? Gone for months at a time, with no guarantee of a safe return? Bucky was better off putting the idea right out of his head, and enjoying the short time he had with Tony.

His musings were cut short by the sound of an angry voice echoing loudly in the garage. In the nearly two weeks Bucky had been helping out, he had never heard anyone so much as raise their voice to Tony. He peeked out the rear passenger window.

Bucky instantly spotted Tony, stood with his back facing Bucky and his arms half-raised in a placating manner. Across from him stood an young man with an ugly scowl on his face.

The first thing that Bucky noticed about Angry Guy was that he was holding a gun.

Thankfully, the gun was currently pointed towards the ground, but Bucky knew he couldn’t count on it staying there. He quickly took inventory of what he had access to in the backseat of the car, and quietly got to work.

Bucky could hear Tony talking to Angry Guy, but tuned it out as he built, only looking up when Tony cried out. Bucky scowled as he saw Angry Guy pistol-whip Tony, causing Tony to crash to the ground on hands and knees.

Bucky carefully rolled down the window and lined up his shot, knowing he would probably only get one attempt at this. He aimed his improvised slingshot, counted his breaths, and let it fly.

He hit the precariously-stacked pile of tires behind Angry Guy, causing them to bury him in an avalanche of rubber. The gun went skittering out of his hand and across the floor.

“Tony!” Bucky screamed from the backseat. Angry Guy was slowly recovering and shoving tires out of the way as he lurched towards Tony.

Before he could make it there, Tony twisted over on the floor, held up the gun and shot the other man in the shoulder, dropping him. Bucky loosened his panicked grip from the window frame, popped the door open, and jumped straight down from his perch.

Tony was shaking by the time he made it over, staring unblinking at the man lying across from him and panting in short breaths. Bucky carefully took the gun from Tony, slipped on the safety, and temporarily placed it in his waistband.

“Tony, honey?” Bucky slipped off his jacket and bundled it around Tony, then slid his hands down Tony’s arms. Bucky hoped he wasn’t about to go into shock. “Can you do me a favor and go get the phone? We need to call the cops,” and after a glance at Angry Guy, “and an ambulance.”

The downed man was whimpering on the floor. Blood wasn’t pouring out of the wound, so Tony probably hadn’t hit any major blood vessels. Still, Bucky knew Tony would be devastated if he killed a man (even in clear self-defence), so Bucky went over to staunch the bleeding.

“What the _hell_ , man?” Angry Guy spat. “That guy _shot_ me!”

“Shut up or _I’ll_ shoot you,” Bucky muttered darkly. He added what was probably more pressure than was strictly necessary, making the other man squeak and tear up.

“I, um. The phone, Bucky?” Tony’s small voice called out.

“Can you put it on speakerphone and dial 911, Tony?” Bucky asked calmly.

A series of three beeps, and then, “Nine-one-one, what is your emergency?”

“We just had an attempted armed robbery at Tony’s Workshop. The man was shot in the shoulder in self defense, so we’re gonna need an ambulance.”

“Is the man conscious?”

“Yes, he’s conscious and breathing. I’m applying pressure, and there’s no exit wound.”

“Thank you. And what’s your name, sir?”

“James Buchanan Barnes.”

“Okay, James, somebody will be there to help you shortly. Stay on the line for further instructions…”

\- - -

They weren’t done with the police and ambulances until the early hours of the morning. Thankfully, because Tony was so well-liked around town, the police agreed to finish their questioning in the morning to allow Tony and Bucky to get some sleep.

“ _God_ , what a day,” Tony breathed, clutching at his hair as he sat hunched over in his seat. Bucky stood nearby, leaning against the wall. The garage seemed to ring with silence after all the chaos.

“We should get to bed. Nine o’clock’s gonna come sooner than we’d like.”

Tony hummed in agreement and stood, nearly collapsing to the floor as his knees buckled. Bucky lunged to grab him.

“We gotta stop meeting like this,” Bucky joked, “you nearly falling over in exhaustion and me catching you.”

Tony gave a small, watery smile. 

“It’s okay. Adrenaline letdown’s a bitch. Sleep will fix you right up,” Bucky said. He removed his arms, Tony looking much more stable on his feet, and gently pushed him in the direction of his rooms. “See you in the morning. Sleep well.”

“No, wait,” Tony protested. He turned and hugged his arms around himself. He was still wearing Bucky’s jacket. His knuckles turned bone white at the pressure as he clutched his elbows. “I have to something to tell you.”

“Yes?”

“I… I think I…” Tony trailed off, then took a deep breath to steady himself. He looked Bucky in the eye, then blurted, “I finished your engine work five days ago. I just really enjoyed having you around and didn’t want you to go. I’m a horrible person but I can’t even be sorry because _you saved my life_. You’re an absolute saint.” His face flushed.

Bucky blinked.

“Okay, now you say something,” Tony said, looking like he wanted to be buried under a wall of tires himself.

Bucky walked up to Tony and gently brushed a thumb over the bandage sitting high on Tony’s cheek. “Tony, you almost died. _I almost lost you._ How could I be mad about some stupid repairs?”

With that, he curled his fingers behind Tony’s head, feeling soft hair curling between his fingers, and leaned in. He pressed a gentle kiss to the corner of Tony’s mouth, then straightened up. 

“I’d completely understand if you don’t want to pursue this,” Bucky said, staring down at the floor. “I’ll be gone in a few days and, well… We try our best out there, but I’m not gonna lie to you and make promises I can’t keep.”

“Oh, Brooklyn,” Tony sighed.

Bucky stumbled and almost fell over when Tony yanked him down, wrapped his arms around Bucky’s neck, and pulled him in for another kiss. The kiss was warm and intense, and Bucky could feel puffs of breath on his skin as their lips pressed against each other. The smell of motor oil and cologne, familiar and comforting after his time spent in the garage, surrounded him.

“Wow,” Bucky breathed.

\- - -

Two days later saw Bucky and Tony awkwardly making their goodbyes. Neither wanted Bucky to go. Bucky’s newly repaired bike sat ready and packed in the driveway, the bed linens had been stripped and folded neatly, and Bucky had secretly batch-cooked and frozen a few meals for Tony to eat later.

“My tour’s over in a year. I know that’s a lot to ask, but—”

Tony placed a finger on Bucky’s lips.

“You better come find me when you get back. Now shut up and kiss me, Brooklyn.”

**Author's Note:**

> Chekhov's gun _AND_ Chekhov's tires!
> 
> Come find me on tumblr! [marsmaywander.tumblr.com](http://marsmaywander.tumblr.com)
> 
> And please hit that kudos button and tell me what you thought in a comment - it really makes my day :D


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